The Master Detective Part 15

"You seem to have built more on that idea of mine than I intended," I said.

"I have built nothing at all on it," he answered. "I argue entirely from the appearance of the dead man. Another point. I looked for some sign that the dress had been put on after the man was dead. The signs all point to an opposite conclusion."

"The dress puzzles me," I said.

"Of course, if the doctor were not so certain that death had occurred during the day, we might place the murder at some time on the previous night, after the performance, when Henley would naturally be in his pierrot's dress, but why should he put it on during the day. There was no rehearsal, I suppose?"

"Nothing was said about it; besides, Henley was supposed to be in town."

"Yes, I know. That is one of our difficulties. I take it that neither Watson nor any of his company have offered any explanation of the tragedy?"

"I believe not. I saw the local inspector this morning, and he said nothing further had transpired, nor had any clue been found amongst the dead man's effects. Of course, if his companions had any guilty knowledge they would have made some explanation."

"Why?"

"To mislead us."

"My dear Wigan, there are times when you jump as far to a conclusion as a woman."

"I am arguing from a somewhat ripe experience," I retorted somewhat hotly.

"Strengthened by an interest in Sister Pomona, eh? Something of the old-fashioned school lingers about you, which is picturesque but always a handicap in these days. The methods of crime have changed just as the methods of other enterprises have changed. Your bungling villain has no chance nowadays; to succeed a criminal must be an artist, a scientist even, and he does not fall into the error of accusing himself by excusing himself. And since increased knowledge tends to simplify those explanations with which we have sought to explain away difficulties in the past, I think we shall be wise to apply modern methods to any difficulty with which we are confronted."

Naturally, I argued the point, endeavoring to justify myself, and in the process we nearly quarreled.

That night we went to the entertainment. It was an exceedingly full house, showing the commercial wisdom of the proprietors of the sea-baths in not canceling the engagement. The verve and go in the performance astonished me. One would not have supposed that a tragedy had happened in this little company of players. I felt that they ought to be horribly conscious of the ghastly thing which had been found under that platform only a few hours since. I said something of the kind to Quarles.

"Don't forget the artistic temperament," he answered.

"Surely it would be the very temperament to be influenced," I said.

"Presently we shall find out, perhaps," he whispered as Sister Pomona went to the piano.

It was Chopin she played to-night, and Quarles, who had been more interested in her than in the rest of the company, immediately lost himself in the music. He applauded as vociferously as any one in the audience, and after the performance would talk of nothing but music. It pleased him to become learned on harmony and counterpoint; at least, I suppose it was learned; I could not understand him.

I had suggested that he should make the acquaintance of the pierrots as soon as the curtain was down, but this he would not do.

"To-morrow will be time enough; besides, I want to see them with the paint off."

We called on them on the following morning. They had rooms in a quiet street in Fairtown. The landlady was accustomed to have strolling companies as lodgers, and evidently had the knack of making them comfortable. Quarles had a word or two with her before seeing her visitors, and learnt that they were the nicest and quietest people she had ever had. The poor gentleman who was dead was the quietest of the company.

"Perhaps he was in love," laughed Canaries.

"I shouldn't be surprised," the landlady answered.

"With whom?"

"He seemed to spend most of his time looking at Miss Day when he didn't think she would notice him. I don't wonder. She is well worth looking at."

"Admiration is not necessarily love," remarked the professor. "By the way, have you been to the mortuary to see the body?"

"Me!" exclaimed the landlady in horror. "No. I am not one of those who take a morbid pleasure in that kind of thing. Nothing would induce me to go."

"Very sensible of you," Quarles said.

We were then taken to the Watsons' sitting-room, and I explained the reason of our call, speaking of Quarles as a brother detective. He did not at once act up to his part. Mr. and Mrs. Watson were alone when we first entered, but the others joined us almost at once, and I fancy they were prepared for a visit from me; the local inspector may have said it was likely. Quarles began to talk of music, and judging by Miss Day's interest I concluded that he knew what he was talking about; in fact, all of them were immensely interested in the old man, and for at least half an hour the real reason of our being there was not mentioned.

"Bach, no, I am not an admirer of Bach," said the professor, in answer to a question from Miss Day. "Bad taste, no doubt, but I always think musical opinion is particularly difficult to follow. By the way, I suppose Mr. Henley played some instrument?"

The sudden question seemed to change the whole atmosphere. Watson, I fancy, had been ready to enter upon a defense of Shaw, and Miss Day to convert Quarles to Bach worship; in fact, I firmly believe that every one except myself had forgotten all about the dead man until that moment.

"Why do you ask!" Watson inquired after a pause.

"You are such a musical set, it would be strange if one of your company could not play any instrument at all. I am told he sang tenor songs, and was wondering whether that was all he could do."

"As a fact he played the banjo and the guitar," said Watson, "but he has not done so in Fairtown. The people here are high-cla.s.s people, and we have to vary our performance to suit our audiences. At Brighton, where we go next week, Henley's banjo playing might have been the most popular item on the program."

"I can understand that. You know very little about Mr. Henley, I am told," and he waved his hand in my direction to show where he had got his information.

"Very little," Watson replied. "He told us he had no relations, and he received very few letters, which seemed to be from agents and business people. I did not question him very closely when he applied to me. I judged that he was down on his luck, but he fitted my requirements, and my wife was favorably impressed with him."

"And you have no reason to regret taking him into your company?"

"On the contrary, he proved a great acquisition, a far better man than the one whose place he took."

"That is not quite what I meant," said Quarles. "Companies of entertainers vary, not only in ability, but in individual tastes, in personnel. By engaging Mr. Henley you were obliged to admit him into your private circle, and I imagine--"

"That is what I meant by saying my wife approved of him," said Watson. "I wouldn't engage the finest tenor in the world unless he were a decent fellow. It wouldn't be fair to the rest of us."

Quarles nodded his appreciation of such an att.i.tude.

"Of course, as long as he behaves decently I am satisfied," Watson went on. "I don't make my enquiries too particular. For instance, I shouldn't bar a man because he had got into trouble."

"Have you any reason to suppose that Henley had done so?" Quarles asked.

"That might account for his mysterious death."

"I have no such suspicion," Watson answered; "indeed, he was not that kind of man. It is my way--my clumsy way of explaining what I mean by decent. Many a decent man has seen the inside of a prison. By being there he pays his debt, and afterwards, in common justice, he should be free, really free, free from his fellow-man's contempt."

"You have started my husband on his pet hobby," laughed Mrs. Watson. "He always declares that our prisons hold some of the best men in the world."

"Some of the strongest and most potential," corrected her husband.

"I am inclined to agree with him," said Quarles.

"But I am taking up your time and not asking the one or two questions I came especially to ask. You dress for the performance in the tent, I suppose?"

"The men do. The ladies dress here and go down with cloaks over their costumes."